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Piermont Letter 4
The following letter was written by Rev Piermont, to his wife, on the morning of June 22nd, 361AO. Letter Dear Mary, As the first bit of morning light, grey and scattered by the broken panes of dirty glass, allowed me to make out my fellow Peacekeepers, I thought of you. I hoped you were resting comfortably back in our home, in our bed. Somehow, with us taking residence in this abandoned home, it seems harder for me to ponder our home, if you are not in it. The weight of the emptiness would be too much. You tried to tell me it wasn't about the money, when it seemed we were fighting about nothing but money. I was wrong, having faith doesn't mean you are free of responsibility. In my last, I believe I wrapped up telling you how we needed to move on from the butcher's place and find some place Doc could give me a proper bandage. As we discussed our options, Jack, the dog provided to us for this mission, altered. He is smart as a whip, pointing, as if his spine was an arrow, to the road to the south. Isaiah, who always had a way with animals, felt it meant savages are coming. We are not here to fight savages and given the amount of blood my leg was still pouring out, I was particularly uninterested in meet them. So, I ordered my men to move out. Isaiah and Winn, dove out the window to the back, which is further from the road I suppose, but just imagining the pain that would cause me made my belly ache. So, the Doc assisted my in moving out the front and around the side of the house. We could already see the shambling, diseased masses of the lost to the south. I should mention, Zed had an idea, which struck me as a pretty good one, which was to set this place on fire with a little lantern oil and a flint. He suspected it would draw the savages in, like a moth, and it would aid our escape. This left him an little behind the rest of us.. Mary, if you should ever find yourself in similar circumstances, let me advise you, savages are not particularly attracted to fire. They are, though it would seem, very interested in moving Peacekeepers. Additionally, while they may seem aimless at times, when they get a target, they are fast. They will run on broken, bootless, half rotted away feet at unimaginable speed. Speeds which tear their rent and soiled clothing. A dozen of them fell on us, particularly on Zed. One of them still wore a Peacekeeper uniform. It is like that start you get when you walk into a room with a mirror you don't expect, These savages, these mindless, cannabilistic, pathetic souls, were us. It stopped me cold. Zed, who had wreaked so much havoc at the Knudson farm, was brought down, by the allies of this Peacekeeper turned savage. They had him nearly lifeless on the ground, working to consume him. The best I can diatribe it, is like the pack of wild dogs, which will sometimes take down a sick or weak livestock. Just moments ago, Zed was neither, but now he barely twitched. I lost my mind. I remember shaking the doctor off, so he could fight as well. I remember seeing Jack hold the attention of several of these things. I remember thinking if I could use the pain as source of power, if I could let it enrage me. I remember thinking I wouldn't let them have Zed, no man on my watch would fall like Sgt. Fuller. God, Sgt .Fuller, Mary, he was such a good man. I remember the black realization that this Peacekeeper savage had been Fuller. This was his disease ravaged body I had to kill, or let him kill me. I know the one true God promises this all has meaning, but I am too small to see it. I struck him down. I killed Sgt. Fuller. By the hand of God alone, a hedge of protection had been placed around Zed and we were able to save him, but with him so badly hurt, and my injury further aggrivated, we needed to find somewhere to hole up, It wasn't even supper hour and we were beyond spent. We moved into one of the nearby homes and let Doc begin his work. He was quiet for a long while, as he cut and stiched, patched up Zed and finally got the bullet from my hip. Then, as if realizing what had to be done, he suggested we should return to Bark River to heal up. Six weeks, at least. I wish it was that easy, but that is not our charge. Whole or not, we need to get to Weston because that is our duty. I sternly told him as much, but I longed to give into his medical consultation. It was then we heard a shifting in beaten wardrobe on the wall. How Isaiah, who is normally so good at checking all the nooks and crannies missed I don't know. I suppose it should give me an idea how worried he was. Anyway, being the man responsible for our presence here, I opened the door of the furniture and inside was Amy. Now, Amy is just a little bit of nothing, dirty like the rest, but cautious and wise to way the world works out here, She thought we might kill her, for what reason I don't know. Once we had a comfort level, she then helped us learn what we needed to do to hide from the savages. Had it not been for her, I might have written longer last night, but we certainly would have been killed by the large savage herds passing through. I think it is fair to say we owe her our lives, but she was not intersted in our assistance. As I have been writing this, she slipped out to be on here own again. Why she would want to be on her own, is beyond my grasp. When we were spoke into existence, we were given notes of our own, note which are meant to be played with others. Amy doesn't know this, but one alone can never have harmony. I had better go, before the boys see how much this is getting to me. It may be a week or more before we make it home. Your loving husband, Piermont